Shades of Sunset
by ashestodusters
Summary: The twinge that had erupted in his injured side as he pulled his Captain into the alien craft, Spock realised, might have been a sign of more serious damage. Jim is worried, Bones just wants a break, Spock is not ok. *Beyond gave me serious Spock feels. Star Trek Beyond Spoilers. Cross-posted on AO3. Rated for description of injury and one use of bad language.*
1. A Child Of Two Worlds

Shades of Sunset

A/N - Please forgive any spelling / grammar mistakes, this was written on my phone on the train during my commute to work!

* * *

"What would I do without you Spock?"

Collapsed against the hull across from his captain the Vulcan felt a twitch of a smile on his lips. Once this would have alarmed him, now he merely acknowledged his human side and accepted that occasionally it would peek through his stoic facade.  
The Vulcan's quick mind had a response ready, filled with dry wit and fondness. Yet, just as he decided to vocalise it he found that his admittedly lacking energies were suddenly needed elsewhere.

Breathing was becoming difficult, and it was only growing harder by the second.

The twinge that had erupted in his injured side as he pulled his Captain into the alien craft, Spock realised, might have been a sign of more serious damage.

Taking a hitching gulp of air, or as much of a gulp as his uncooperative diaphragm would allow, he tried to turn to Dr. McCoy to alert the man of his ailing condition, for once the model patient. The adrenaline that had kept him going was wearing off to remind the Vulcan exactly how painful it was to have a ragged hole torn into him.

"Doctor," Spock managed to croak quietly, valiantly ignoring the expression on his captains face which was quickly slipping from elation to concern.

"What?" was the gruff reply as McCoy tried to twist in his seat to look at the source of the interruption of his concentrated effort to fly the ship.

Just as Spock was about to notify the doctor of the twinge, which was now more of a burning pain, the doctor abruptly turned back to face the view screen and, with a curse from the craft's unusual pilot, the ship jerked suddenly to the side, slamming Spock into the hull, straight onto his wounded side.

Someone screamed.

As Spock came out of the haze of agony, vision swimming and stomach turning, he realised that person had been him.

Hand once again tucked against the injury in a protective and instinctual manner, Spock forced himself to shakily move his palm away in order to assess the damage and found himself staring in numb surprise at the green coating his fingers.

In his dazed state it took him longer than his now visibly panicked captain to make the connection.

"Spock," Jim's voice trembled, his hand coming to rest against the Vulcan's shoulder, "you're bleeding."

* * *

Several feet away at the craft's helm Leonard McCoy's mind was frantically going through his not-especially-varied options.

The now familiar shout of pain had set him firmly back on edge. He hated how easily he had been able to identify the origin of the cry, and he internally mourned that it wouldn't be the last time he heard it. Stuck as they were in the flying death-trap with no medical supplies his options boiled down to one. Spock couldn't afford to lose more blood, the stock he and the Vulcan had built up on the Enterprise was gone with the ship and Spock's hybrid biology would reject anything else.

Catching the tail-end of Jim's concerned whisper only solidified his plan. Then all he could do was hope that Spock wouldn't die of shock before they could get him to a medical centre.

"Jim you need to get up here," Bones ordered sharply, the increasingly choked inhales of the Enterprise's first officer grating on his ears and urging him into action.

"But," Jim started to protest.

"Now!" although he hadn't intended it to come out so harsh it was enough for Jim to abandon Spock and scramble up to the pilot's seat, "I need you to take over and fly this thing," Bones explained hurriedly, "so I can fix Spock ok?"

"Yeah, sure, right." Jim replied in a daze.

"Jim," Bones murmured as they swapped places in a tangled mess of limbs, "you need to find a way to land us as gently and as soon as possible you hear me? No matter what you hear, you've got to keep focused, the hobgoblin's life might depend on it."

Jim's face immediately set into a determined mask.

"Got it."

Satisfied that Jim was unlikely to be distracted from his task Bones turned back to his patient.

In the minute or so that had passed since the unexpected jolt Spock had managed to get somewhat of a handle back on himself and, ignoring his still-laboured breathing and the ghostly transparency that had taken over his skin, looked almost well enough to man his station on the bridge.

Bones wasn't fooled.

With one hand against the Vulcan's pulse, thready and fast, the other gently pulled Spock's fingers away from his injury.

Glistening copper green coated the side of the uniform, Spock's elevated heartbeat only ensuring that the precious fluid continued to rapidly escape.

Doing his best to ignore the small noises of discomfort, Bones gently lifted Spock's uniform away from his side and felt his stomach drop further at the sight of bruising around the wound.

Internal bleeding. Shit.

Spock needed surgery, and he needed it now, if not sooner.

There was no way Bones could perform the necessary procedure , he could only delay the need for it and hope Spock was strong enough. Besides, he would rather not have Spock's unique blood pooling on the floor of the alien craft.

"Leonard," Spock croaked, but was immediately shushed by the medical professional. Normally Bones would employ his unusual style of bedside manner but Bones knew that with Spock there was no point in even attempting to soften the blow.

"It's bad Spock," the Vulcan's breathing hitched as he probed around the injury as softly as he could, "you're bleeding internally, so I need you to focus on keeping your breathing and pulse as slow as possible. Understand?"

As Spock, wide-eyed, gave a jerky nod, Bones found himself for quite possibly the first time thanking the skies for Spock's Vulcan heritage, because whilst he so often grumbled about Vulcan mind voodoo it was probably about to save his friend's life.

Satisfied that his examination had confirmed his earlier analysis Bones turned to the next problem at hand.  
Sliding Spock's phaser from his belt he glanced around for a loose strip of metal that he could tear from its rightful place.

Spotting what he needed Bones tore what had once been part of the console support from its surroundings, brute force detaching the end that had stubbornly stayed attached.

Bones could see the trepidation on Spock's face as the half-Vulcan spotted the tools he had acquired, it hadn't taken the science officer's genius level IQ to work out what they were about to be used for and he could see Spock bracing himself for a repeat of the crude methods that saved his life on Altamid, that would now save it again.

Bones paused thoughtfully and then hurriedly stripped of his uniform top, leaving just his black undershirt in place. He balled up the blue fabric and guided Spock to lie down fully with his head resting on medical blues.

"Orange," the first officer gasped suddenly as Bones hitched his shirt up further to expose his injury. Bones jumped, not expecting the outburst and his mind jumped to diagnose the worst.

"Sorry?" he asked as he turned to heat one tip of the metal pole with the phaser, waiting for the reassuring and terrifying red glow that indicated it was molten enough for its intended use.

"You asked for my favourite colour," the Vulcan replied haltingly through clenched teeth, back arching briefly against the renewed pain from shifting position, hands clenching at his sides "it is orange."

Oh.

Bones let his hand come to rest on Spock's shoulder, doing his best to project calm and comfort, hoping that Spock's touch-telepathy was picking it up.

"Orange huh? Not what I expected," speaking of orange, the strip he had torn off was starting to burn a dark ember, "kind of a bright colour."

"It was the shade of sunset on Vulcan," Spock murmured, "not necessarily bright but warm, familiar." It did not take a telepath to catch the wistfulness in Spock's tone and McCoy's heart went out to the younger man who had already lost so much.

From the corner of his eye he could see crimson light. It was time.

After a moment of hesitation Bones reached for his belt with his free hand and in one smooth movement yanked it off, folding it swiftly and offering it to the Vulcan.

"So you don't bite your tongue," he explained at Spock's slight frown; the Vulcan's eyes lit up in understanding before he allowed Bones to slide the leather between his teeth, biting down on the fabric and closing his eyes. He did not wish to see this coming.

Bones moved to straddle the science officer's legs, using his own body weight to help hold him still, glad for once that Jim couldn't see and make comments about the compromising position. The ragged tear in Spock's side was still leaking emerald blood at a frankly alarming rate, he couldn't afford to delay any longer. With a deep breath to steady his own hands he grasped the metal rod firmly.

Then, without warning, he pressed the scorching instrument firmly into his patient's wound.

The Vulcan screamed, muffled though it was by the makeshift gag it was more than enough to make Bones' heart lurch in empathy. Spock's eyes flew open, body tensing and moving, trying desperately to get away from the source of his torment, but to no avail. Bones knew, without a doubt, that if Spock had been in full health he wouldn't have stood a chance, but now it was relatively easy to hold the Vulcan down and still with one forearm braced just above the injury.

The doctor tried to ignore the nauseating scent of charred flesh, waiting just long enough for the heat to seal the wound before flinging the metal away.

It landed in the corner with a satisfying clatter.

Beneath him, Spock's cries had died down into whimpering exhales, locking eyes with his friend Bones marvelled at the younger man's ability to withstand pain, even as he murmured comforting words to the suffering man.

A quick glance up at Jim and Bones could see how tightly he was holding himself, restraining himself from dropping everything and rushing to his first's side. Up ahead Bones could see that Jim had finally found somewhere to risk a landing.

Feeling the tension beginning to seep out of Spock's form beneath him Bones lessened his hold and tenderly wiped away the tears that had escaped his charge's eyes before Jim had a chance to spot them.

With a trembling hand Spock removed the belt from between his teeth and threw it aside, hesitantly drawing in deeper breaths.

"Leonard," his voice was a hoarse whisper.

"Shh," Bones soothed, giving into paternal instinct that had never quite left him and resting a hand on Spock's hair, thumb rubbing gentle paths across his forehead, brushing against the tips of slanted eyebrows, "I know Spock, I know, look, Jim's about to land, then we'll get you properly patched up, ok? But until then I need you to stay awake Spock."

Spock turned his head into Bones' comforting touch in response. It was a reaction the Vulcan would never usually allow himself and Bones took the opportunity to push calming thoughts towards the gently buzz that now rested at the edge of his mind, his fingers lightly brushing psi points.

"So, orange huh?" Bones asked after a moment, aware that Spock would likely need help staying conscious. The Vulcan hummed in response, "what was sunset like on Vulcan then?"

Deep brown eyes met his, Spock's mouth twitched up into a weak smile. Bones had no doubt that he had recognised his conversation starter for what it was, a way to keep him alert.

Spock, so fragile and vulnerable, took a shaky breath, and began to talk, his voice soft, melodious, and gentle as he shared his most precious memories with two men he considered brothers.


	2. Capable Of Choosing Your Own Destiny

Shades of Sunset

So this just sort of happened.

I'm pretty sure I meant to stop typing way before I did.  
Thank you to all you folks who gave this fic some love, and me some ideas, I hope this lives up to it!

'Happiness can be found even in the darkest times if one only remembers to turn on the light'  
\- Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

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She-elf: Thank you so much for the lovely comment, whilst it may not go on forever, it goes go on for a bit more :)

Equine 14: Awww thanks, poor Spock indeed, I got very protective of him watching ST Beyond!

Guest: Consider it continued and thank you for the kind words!

morningstar115: Thank you! You're very welcome. Have some more.

Lynn-G: Thanks! Well, I've got one more chapter it turns out!

* * *

Jim slumped down further into the generically uncomfortable medical centre chair in a terrified sulk.

Somewhere beyond the doors in front of him Spock was fighting for his life.

Together, he and Bones had listened, respectfully determined to remember every word, to their friend's faltering voice describing the beauty of his home planet in the way that only a native could. Jim, half his mind on landing the alien craft as gently as possible in consideration of his stricken first, had sat with growing pit of fear in his stomach as Spock increasingly struggled to get through each sentence.

Then, finally on the ground, doing his best to put Spock's renewed mewls of pain out of his mind, the heart-stopping run to the med centre, Spock laid so still on the stretcher, the frantic shouting of doctors, Bones' angry growls the loudest of them all, "Goddammit, he's a green-blooded computer, but he's _our_ green-blooded computer, don't you tell me you know how to treat him, do you even know where his heart is?"

Remembering the feeling of Spock's elegant fingers slipping from his as they pushed through doors where he couldn't follow; leaving him standing slumped in the corridor absently trying to recall when he had first grasped the Vulcan's hand.

Listening to the fading shouts of Bones demanding "plasma" and "electrolytes" and worriedly grumbling about how "the damned hobgoblin's body won't accept a Vulcan blood transfusion" to the bewildered medical staff who had finally deferred to his expertise in all matters Spock.

Then silence.

At some point Uhura had appeared, face painted in frantic worry. Jim knew she was down as Spock's emergency contact despite the recent turbulence in their relationship, but it quickly became clear that she knew no more than him. They waited, accompanied only by the quiet ticking of the clock.

Finally after hours, days, Jim wasn't sure Bones reappeared tired, but smiling. It was all the reassurance Jim needed, because if Bones was smiling, Spock was alive.

"Is he ok?" the captain of the Enterprise jumped to his feet with a shout. Bones quickly motioned for him to clear his voice down and Jim blushed as he remembered that a lot of patients nearby were probably trying to sleep.

"He's a stubborn sod," Bones replied softly, "and a darned lucky one at that," Bones sighed, face dropping slightly, "but he's not out of the woods yet, the wound's infected, we were expecting that, cauterisation often leads to it, so he's fighting off a fever."

At the sight of the two concerned faces in front of him he realised that hadn't exactly sounded heartening.

"What about the healing trance?" Uhura asked softly, surprising Jim who had never heard of any such thing. Bones clearly had as he was frowning.

"For some reason he's having trouble slipping into one," now Uhura was frowning as well, "I've spoken to M'Benga, he's the chief Vulcan expert here, and he reckons Spock's just overstretched himself. As it is, so long as nothing else hits him he'll be fine, healing trance or no, his blood cell count is thankfully going up and he's getting antibiotics to help tackle the infection. He'll be up and about in no time, although," Bones mused with a wry grin, "perhaps not quite as soon as he would like."

Relaxing in the face of his best friend's optimism Jim realised suddenly just how exhausted he was, he had no idea how long he'd been awake for. Bones seemed to see it too.

"Get some rest Jim, they won't let anyone see him until tomorrow anyway."

"You too Bones," Jim shot back, concerned for his friend.

With a nod and a comforting squeeze to his shoulder, Bones moved to have a quick word with Uhura about Vulcan things that Jim didn't understand, even though he probably should. How much did he still not know about someone he considered a close friend? Berating himself he made a mental note to spend more time talking to Spock over games of chess in the future.

Jim cast one last look at the doors that led to his precious first officer before turning away, the weight of worry considerably lifted from his mind, and began to attempt to find his way out of the maze that some people called a hospital.

* * *

The following morning Jim was at the med centre at the crack of dawn, practically bouncing with barely-contained energy. He was finally being allowed to see Spock.

Bones had been forced to set up a rota, when the sheer number of people wanting to visit the Vulcan became overwhelming. The first few days only had the bridge crew and Spock's father, Sarek, scheduled, and Bones had warned them to expect Spock to be uncoherent or sleeping for much of the time whilst his body fought off infection, but he grudgingly admitted that it would probably do even Spock some good to hear familiar voices.

Lieutenant Uhura, who due to her telepathic bond with Spock had stayed with the half-Vulcan through the night, met him outside Spock's room. She quickly explained that Spock was still feverish; although the worst seemed to be over. The Vulcan had been slipping in and out of conscious, and in and out of awareness, and had often slipped into speaking Vulcan without realising during the fevered dreams of the night.

"Thanks Nyota." Jim murmured, surprised at her lack of reaction to his use of her first name.

"Just," Uhura swallowed, visibly shaken by the experience, "just keep talking to him ok? He seems to find some comfort in it, even when he's asleep."

"Of course," Jim agreed, worried at how subdued she seemed compared to normal "Are _you_ alright?"

"It's just, seeing him like this," Uhura paused, hands fluttering at her sides, "makes me realise how close I was to losing him," her voice began to crack as tears flooded her eyes, "I can't lose him Kirk, I love him." Giving in to his compassionate urges, Jim pulled her into an embrace.

"You won't Nyota, you won't, not if Bones and I have anything to say about it. Spock's going to be demanding that he's fit for duty in no time, you'll see, he'll drive us all crazy, they'll let him out just to get him out of their hair."

Uhura giggled weakly as Jim pulled back so he could look her in the eye, wanting her full attention for what he had to say.

"We've both been idiots, him and I," he admitted, "thinking that we could ever leave the Enterprise behind. That ship, the crew, it's family. If the last few days have taught me anything Nyota, it's that we could never abandon our family, and believe me when I say that the moment Spock was well enough, you were his first thought and his priority. For crying out loud, he convinced us to let him come on the away mission to rescue the crew because you were down there. I think it's been a wake-up call for him too."

Jim gave Uhura a moment to regain her composure, which had been thoroughly wrecked by his confession.

"Really?" she whispered hopefully.

"Really," he confirmed, brushing away the few rebel tears that had escaped, "and I hope I'm the one who has the honour of marrying you two lovesick fools."

At that, Uhura let about a proper laugh, a smile working its way back onto her face, "thank you Jim, you have no idea how much I needed to hear that."

"No problem, I'm sure his supreme Vulcan-ness will tell you himself in no time," Jim glanced up at the door, "but until then, I recommend you get some sleep."

With a nod of agreement, Uhura slowly de-tangled herself from the hug and, with one last longing glance at the entrance to Spock's room, turned and headed for her own bed. Left alone Jim took a steading breath and with a shaking hand tapped in the entry code, hoping for the best but prepared for the worst.

Jim had managed to briefly catch an exhausted but calmer Bones when he arrived at the hospital. The disgruntled doctor had complained about how nice Spock suddenly was, "it's weird Jim, the hobgoblin's actually being _pleasant_ , I actually miss the insults y'know," before explaining that he had been flitting in and out of Spock's room all morning. He was keeping a close eye on the half-Vulcan, but seemed relatively unconcerned, the fever was dying down and Spock was already growing more coherent for larger periods of time.

Relief filled him as he entered the room to see Spock awake and aware, face pain-free, likely as a result of the drugs they were pumping into him. Propped up slightly on some pillows with hair adorably askew he was, in spite of the unnatural pallor of his skin and beads of sweat from the fever, happily, or as happily as a Vulcan could be, reading from a PADD.

It was also clear that, as Bones had said, Spock was getting better. Even with Jim's limited knowledge of the bio-bed displays he could tell that the readings looked significantly improved compared to those the stretcher had thrown up the day before.

The first officer of the Enterprise glanced up as Jim walked in and offered that small twitch of a smile and a raised eyebrow at his own undoubtedly dishevelled appearance.

"Captain," Spock greeted softly, voice weak and still croaky from where Jim knew they had hurriedly intubated him the day before when it had become clear that the Vulcan was struggling to breath normally around his injury.

"At ease Spock." Jim joked, grin back full force as he perched on the edge of the bed, ignoring the chair beside it for fear of doing permanent damage to his abused back, "how are you?"

"I am…" Spock cut himself off, taking a moment to assess the situation, "I am… considerably improved Captain, although I would not say I am 'well'."

"That's good to hear, and it's Jim, not Captain," Jim reminded the Vulcan gently, "we're off duty."

"Of course, Jim," Spock replied softly, "please accept my apologies, my illness has… clouded my mind."

"Forgiven," Jim declared, smoothing the sheets gently, as though the movement alone could comfort his friend.

"Has Nyota left to rest?" Spock asked after a moment of awkward silence. Jim could hear both the worry and affection in his tone.

"Yeah, she looked pretty tired, so I sent her home." Spock nodded gently, a small frown appearing, "Spock?"

"I do not recall much about the events following our landing," Spock confessed, "it is disconcerting. But I do remember hearing Nyota's voice."

"She sat with you most of the night." Jim explained, glad that Spock had been able to draw some relief from her presence as Bones had hoped, "she said you kept slipping into Vulcan." Much to his surprise this knowledge did not seem to alarm his first.

"That is not unexpected considering the nature of my dreams."

"I thought Vulcan's didn't dream?" Jim asked, some of his first year xenobiology classes coming back to him. Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Full Vulcans do not." Ah, of course.

"But you do." Jim stated quietly, treading carefully.

"It would appear so." Spock responded as quietly, fidgeting in a manner so unlike his usual self. When he offered no more Jim did what he did best in situations like these and pushed.

"What did you dream about?" Spock's eyes shot up to meet his gaze, his surprise lingering beneath the surface of chocolate irises. For a moment Jim thought Spock wasn't going to reply.

"Ko-mekh, ha-kel, eh paki-panu." The Vulcan words were barely a whisper. Jim needed no translation of the last one, it was on every memorial to Vulcan he had seen. Another word also sounded strangely familiar.

"Ko-mekh," Jim repeated, hoping internally that he wasn't ruining the pronunciation, "I know that word," he racked his mind for the basic Vulcan course he had taken, but Spock intervened before he could recollect the translation.

"Ko-mekh," the word rolled smoothly of Spock's tongue, "mother."

 _Oh Spock._

Jim swallowed uncomfortably, before offering Spock his hand, the Vulcan looked at it in confusion for a moment before hesitantly taking it. Jim did his best to project his honesty with his words.

"I grieve with thee." Spock closed his eyes against the sorrow, grounding himself in his Captain's concern, love, and sincerity.

"Thank you Jim." The words were thick with emotion that they would both later deny. Slowly, Spock rebuilt his walls, Jim sat patiently waiting, softly removing his hand the moment it became clear that the Vulcan was uncomfortable with the touch, but not before he caught the tail end of Spock's exhaustion, the conversation having worn the injured man out.

"I fear I am presently unable to continue with this conversation." Spock mumbled as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Jim gave him a fond smile before he commandeered a pillow in the hopes of making the chair less back-breaking.

"It's ok Spock, sleep," Jim paused, quietening his voice as he realised that his friend had already dropped off and utilising a Vulcan word he had picked up from Ambassador Spock, "I'll be right here t'hai'la."

Sitting down into his chair Jim picked up Spock's discarded PADD, brought up some old Earth literature he knew Spock was fond of to read aloud and settled in for the remainder of his shift.

* * *

A/N

Vulcan translations (I used the Vulcan Language Dictionary for reference here):

 _Ko-mekh, ha-kel, eh paki-panu_  
Mother, home and lost-world (a way of referring to the planet Vulcan following its destruction by Nero)

 _t'hai'la_  
Variation on t'hy'la - Friend, life-long companion, blood brother/sister (not used as lover in this context)

Once again please forgive any typos, I do try to proofread but occassionally some slip through.


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